


Quilt

by kaelio



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Lizard People Dear Reader, M/M, Patient Nice Good Relationship Style Stuff, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23424028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelio/pseuds/kaelio
Summary: Julian introduces a very human softness to someone who may choose to love him for it.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 41
Kudos: 260





	Quilt

The first time that Julian had brought him back to his quarters— _properly_ speaking—the arrangements had been neither indeliberate nor arbitrary. A xenobiologist, as cover and context for his status as an eager xenophiliac, Dr. Bashir was never completely unprepared; there were objects and articles appropriate to any coupling and likely to be employed in routine sexual explorations cross-species. Nothing particularly unusual or invasive, of course—conventional items: cooling pads, pillows, lubricants of several styles—

Garak would have no use for cooling pads, naturally (that was more of a concession to Andorian physiology), and supplemental lubrication—as it happens—would have rendered an alarming surfeit. However, pillows never went awry, be it to lessen the impact of a headboard or modify an angle of approach. (And, as Julian knew better than explain, to cushion any joints that had suffered by age to find themselves limber no longer.) And to those ends, they had been quite convenient.

In fact, when they were done, Garak had given the pillow several appraising pats as Julian—seemingly distracted—politely wiped down his anatomy.

The entire affair was unfailingly polite, actually; Garak had promptly dressed and left with a slight bow and a calm reiteration of his gratitude.

Julian would have much preferred he stayed, but left unspoken was the overt impression that Garak viewed co-sleeping as a unique status, one which had not yet been granted. To argue was to flirt, but Julian knew not everything was to be argued at any time. There would be next time. (After the noises he heard, a “next time” seemed a foregone conclusion.)

And, as it happens, there was indeed, and it played out much the same. The sex was a little more polished, the navigation just a little more practiced. And huffs, pants, and whimpers committed to future refinement. The heat, the texture, and the _salt_ : a couple would make a habit of it, immediately, and with great interest.

That time, Julian saw Garak give the pillow beneath his head one last inquisitive bob, one more small test; he rested it there just a half-second longer than necessary before taking to his feet.

Julian was left behind to ponder it. He fluffed the pillow in his hands, assessing. He’d been to Garak’s room before, once or twice, but never in a romantic context. However, he could remember the bedding. The first adjective that came to mind was: _severe._

That was part of his rationale for inviting Garak back to his room instead. He was certain Garak would have had it either way. (… Or in the holosuites, or in his shop, or in the Replimat, or the cargo holds, or really anywhere Julian saw fit to give it to him, if the arc of his back was anything to go by.)

It would not be the first time that Garak had permitted his life, when pressed, to veer towards lush.

Julian smiled mildly. He replicated several more cushions, as soft as the replicator’s slider would allow.

The third time, the growing population demanded some acknowledgement. “A touch extravagant,” Garak remarked, observing what were now _five_ large pillows, heaped and dappled with sweat. It was voiced as a mere assessment, and without Cardassian derision. (“ _Oh, you Federation types—!”_ )

Which meant it was a victory.

Julian pressed him back down into the pillows with a kiss—playful, forceful. “You’ve got me. It’s a human affectation,” he said, smiling into gray skin. “I had to get you acclimated. Please tell me if it gets to be too much for you.”

Garak wriggled into the softness. “It’s no trouble, my dear.” His eyelids seemed heavy; they blinked lazily. He shut them for a number of seconds— _nine, ten, eleven—_ and was up.

Julian moved aside and let him go. A creature like Garak could not be bound, or seized, or caught. Only baited, carefully, and tamed.

He trusted the part of him that came from a species of peacemakers, of domesticators. Of patient types.

So Julian—with agonizing temperance—introduced them slowly: the comforters, the fleeces, the heated eiderdown. By the end of the year, the mattress itself was almost completely obscured. Nevertheless, Garak had never spent the night.

… He had, however, burrowed, curled, and cuddled, and even briefly snoozed in post-coital affection. Every such gesture gave Julian the reserve to wait a little longer, never so gauche as to ask.

Sometimes (and this was Julian’s favorite) Garak would push his head under a pile of pillows, hidden from view, his presence nevertheless attested in timid gruntles. Julian could tease his fingers under the covers, working through the layers, and eventually find the warm scales of his back humming with a satisfied susurrus.

Garak, in public, was always punctual, congenial, and perfectly put-together. The Garak who tunneled beneath linens like a sandfish seemed almost primitive, and trusting in his decision to be seen as such. It was an unexpected intimacy, and Julian did not take it for granted. Even the opportunity to see his hair not quite-so-slick meant something precious, something that no words found themselves sufficient to capture.

The doctor pulled aside several pillows and tilted up a third. He leaned over, peering beneath the structure it had formed. Garak’s nose was buried in fleece. “Hmm,” Julian said. “Well, what’s this here?”

Garak snorted.

“A jolly good surprise—there’s something in my bed! Looks something like Garak, only he disappeared, must have been a half-hour ago, never to be seen….”

The Cardassian cinched his eyelids, wanting nothing of the room’s dim light. His arms were circled around a bundled blanket, which he clutched tightly to his chest.

Julian brought his face in a little nearer, relishing that the distance was his to close. He had been granted it, and held it dear. “Fond of that one, are you?”

(Grunt.)

“All right, all right.” Julian relented, though he kept the final pillow pushed aside (the better to admire). “Well, you certainly do look cozy. Forget the bloody ring, at this rate I’ll be proposing with a quilt.”

“What are you proposing?” Garak grumbled, ruing the influx of cold air.

It brought an immediate heat to his cheeks. “O-oh, sorry, a bit of a joke, you know. Humans, in many cultures, give one another a ring—only, not a Cardassian practice, wearing rings, far as I’ve seen, and you, ah, with the blanket…. In a proposal, it is, you’re meant to make it special, for, uh, the other person. Ah, just to say, since that’s what you like, that’s what I’d give you. To, you know, entice you. Hypothetically.” (He wished, and not for the first time, that his quick reflexes could extend to biting his tongue.)

Garak’s nose scrunched in annoyance and he finally opened his eyes. “What, precisely, do you believe I am withholding? I only have the one hole, _doctor._ ”

“A proposal. A proposal—do Cardassians not propose? Is that too euphemistic? Beg pardon, beg—that’s the ritual, you know, where you request that, um,”—his voice faltered somewhat—"someone marry you.”

Garak froze.

Julian withdrew his hand. “Ah, that’s not to suggest you purchase the other person’s fidelity, or offer… things, for love. It’s, you know, representative, a token, is all. An old practice. Silly, actually! As I said, just—”

“A Federation marriage would not be recognized in the Union.”

Julian laughed awkwardly. “Right, obviously!”

“It would be considered specious. In fact, it would warrant no consideration at all.”

“Of course. Utterly ridiculous.”

Garak closed his eyes again. His voice was even, level, calm. “So if you should ever give me a ‘proposal’, I will accept, given it would not affect my standing or status on Cardassia.”

It was Julian’s turn to be stunned speechless.

“Though I would very much like the quilt also.”

“… R-really?” (Good grief, was that a _squeak?_ )

“Mm.” He rolled over, flashing more of his neck. That itself was a gesture, though neither would be so crass as to expound. “You know, Julian, perhaps I’ve failed to mention that I like it. I like this bed. I like it very much. I might go so far as to say, if it’s not too much of an imposition…?”

Julian slid his hand over Garak’s neck, teasing the very edges of his scales. “Elim, will you stay?”

Garak sighed. “Oh, if you insist.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> P.S. the sandfish is a real animal. Please pull up a video, they're very cute.


End file.
